“Press on.” With that, Zhou Xianlong and Tao Ran took their leave.

“Press on!” Lin Han slapped his face and wiped his hands, “Come, let’s carry on. I’d feel like I’m letting the academy down if I fail to meet their expectations.”

“It’s fine. Go take a nap first. You’ve been up all night. If you keep at it, you might just die right in front of your laptop.”

“Yeah, this isn’t that urgent. Get a good rest first, and we’ll talk later. Otherwise, you’ll almost certainly face a mental block.”

By the time they woke up again, it was already 6.00 p.m.

As soon as they were done washing up, Wang Chenghao entered with a tin container in hand. He had been the one taking care of their food and drinks over the last few days, over and above his duties in poring through the data in the records room. The trio thanked him, before turning back to the sea of information that they were sailing right through.

Qin Ye looked at his fingers. The document was already filled with words, and what needed to be covered was largely covered by now. There were at most three to four hundred more words before the first draft of the thesis was complete.

As he progressed through the thesis, his thoughts became more and more streamlined, and the writing process naturally became smoother and smoother. The number of words that he managed to write each day also increased accordingly.

The latest edition of Cultivators Weekly had just arrived last night. They analyzed the trends to date, and concluded that the final page of Cultivators Weekly generally...